


some kind of electric

by orphan_account



Category: One Direction (Band), Radio 1 RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-19
Updated: 2012-09-19
Packaged: 2017-11-14 13:53:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/515912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>harry is one of the young (stupid) models grimmy hooks up with. au.</p>
            </blockquote>





	some kind of electric

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thediamondskies](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thediamondskies/gifts).



> oh man idk what this is, because stymshaw has become a /thing/. um this is unbeta'd so sorry for any mistakes, let me know if you see anything major.

nick’s mid-sentence, chatting away with aimee about rita ora’s show last night, when he spots him.

 

“fuck,” he breathes, nudging her and jerking his head to where the two guys are leaning casually against the bar. nick watches her eyes as they travel, and smirks when she takes them in.

 

“hot,” she comments, sipping on her drink, “curly looks about twelve, though.”

 

nick rolls his eyes, but on second glance, he kinda does. although, it’s a twelve-year old that he really wants to fuck. the guy’s got a mass of curls atop his head, with wide green eyes and really fucking pink lips (that nick wouldn’t mind seeing wrapped around his dick, if he’s being honest). his friend has a ridiculously tall quiff and looks sort of middle eastern, all soft features and stubble.

 

“models,” nick smiles as aimee groans.

 

“you’re going to fucking traumatize gilly and henry again, aren’t you?”

 

“it’s not my bloody fault the models love me, is it?” nick grins cheekily, standing and making his way over to the tall model-type blokes.

 

he can see the curly-haired one’s eyes light up with interest at his approach, nudging his quiffed friend who looks up for a moment, then looks away, evidently bored.

 

well then. nick knows who he’s _not_ going for.

 

“hey, curly,” he says as he approaches, “can i buy you a drink?”

 

the maybe-model’s expression changes, realisation slowly dawning, “hey, you’re the bloke from the radio, right? grimmy?”

 

nick doesn’t hesitate as he replies, “s’me, love, at your service. do i get to know your name, or are you going to be mystery model man?”

 

“how’d you know i’m a model?” he quirks an eyebrow, shifting so that he’s facing nick.

 

“got that look about you,” nick winks, before realising he’s not a winker because when people do it to him it usually creeps him the fuck out, really, and _what the actual fuck, this kid looks like a fucking angel_.

 

“m’harry, and this is zayn,” harry the definite-model says, gesturing to the guy who nick has already mentally nicknamed _the walking quiff_ before realising that he’s probably being slightly hypocritical, who tips his hand in a gesture of greeting.

 

“i’m going to go find liam,” zayn says with a slight roll of the eyes, sliding away from the bar and into the crowd, but not before remarking, “don’t do anything i wouldn’t do, haz.”

 

“what, so i’ve got no boundaries then?” harry calls back, only to be met with zayn flipping him off as he disappears into the throng of bodies.

 

turning his attention back to nick, harry rolls his eyes, “liam’s his _boyfriend_. fucking inseparable, they are. bit sickening, to be honest.”

 

nick isn’t really sure what to say, mostly because he can’t take his eyes off harry’s lips. so he merely hums in response, waiting for harry to say something else.

 

“so, how about that drink?” and damn if those aren’t the best words nick’s ever heard.

 

+

 

three rounds of tequila slammers later, and harry’s dragged nick out onto the dancefloor, eyes aflame with excitement.

 

it’s probably something to do with the alcohol burning its way through his blood, but nick’s completely lost all traces of inhibition, letting harry-the-model press up against him, arms slipping around his waist casually.

 

“love this song,” harry leans in to murmur into nick’s ear, and the resulting chills that spread across his body only make him push his body further towards harry’s, rolling his hips towards him and letting a devious smirk onto his face.

 

they’re so close that nick can _feel_ harry’s breath catch as he lets himself grind slowly against harry, bringing his forehead to rest against the green-eyed boy. his heart is hammering in his chest as if he’s eighteen again, drunk and high on some twisted kind of medicine.

 

and then he gets an awful thought.

 

pulling away, nick asks harry, “wait, you’re not like. um. this isn’t _illegal_ , is it?”

 

harry laughs, a rumble deep in his chest, replying, “i’m twenty. don’t worry that pretty little quiff of yours.”

 

that’s all nick really needs, and he leans back in, ghosting a wisp of air over harry’s lips before he brushes his lips against the other man’s, letting his mouth melt against harry’s as his tongue works its way in and harry nips gently down on his bottom lip.

 

they stay that way for a while (minutes, moments, months), languidly kissing under the lights, until nick pulls away, murmuring into harry’s ear and making sure to graze his lips against his skin as he says, “so, my place or yours?”

 

+

 

as soon as they arrive at nick’s place, they’re wrestling the door open, slipping through as nick pushes harry up against his wall and kisses him hot and deep, tongue slipping in to chase harry’s and hands winding their way up into his tangled curls. as soon as his fingers pressed against harry’s scalp, rubbing gently, harry let out a small groan and pulled nick’s body closer, pushing his shirt up slightly so he could trail his fingers up along his waist, eliciting shivers all over nick’s body.

 

harry’s licking into his mouth, his touch full of hunger and almost aggressive as nick slides a leg in between harry’s, smiling to himself as he feels that harry’s almost fully hard already (jesus, he misses being that young) and rolling his hips slightly towards harry. harry reciprocates by moving his lips away from nick’s, pressing light kisses along his jawline and grazing his teeth against the skin there lightly as nick gasps. and harry is _everywhere_ , and nick wants to touch him and feel his back and press lovebites into his neck and _oh._

harry’s moved up to his ear, swirling his tongue once in a swift motion that has nick feel like he’s a teenager again, getting off for the first time and going weak at the knees. and harry brushes lips along and down to nick’s neck, and pauses so he can suck in a lovebite, sucking and licking and _jesus fucking christ_ , that’s his teeth biting into skin, and he’s going to get so much shit from everyone for this.

 

he retaliates by working his way down to harry’s collarbone, first pressing his lips gently to a spot there, but then changing so that he’s sucking and licking an angry red mark in, and nick really fucking hopes that everyone can see this, everyone can see the mark he’s left, the way harry’s been _claimed_. almost too late, harry groans, “i have a fucking shoot in two days, fucking burberry,” and nick only laughs, deep in his chest.

 

“don’t care, babe,” he mutters, voice low with arousal as harry suddenly flips them so that he’s pressed against the wall with harry’s body pinning him there, his erection against nick’s thigh as he ruts slightly against him.

 

they rub against each other, nick leaning up to pull their torsos flush against one another as he kisses harry, swallowing the noises that are threatening to burst, the _oh god more_ and _please, harry_ and _where the fuck did you learn this stuff_.

 

nick doesn’t know how long they’re there for, rutting impatiently against each other like fumbling fifteen-year-olds during their first time, but his cock is almost painfully hard in his pants and harry’s presence is almost too much, his scent enveloping him in some ridiculous bubble. eventually, he realises that although it feels amazing, they’re not going to be able to come like this, and he kisses harry again, a short press of lips on lips before asking, “d’you wanna move?”

 

“bed?” harry asks, and nick contemplates, although it’s difficult with the press of harry’s dick against his leg. his bedroom is up a full flight of stairs, and he feels like this might be slightly dangerous to attempt while navigating the steps. on the other hand, there’s a perfectly functioning couch only meters from them, and he feels as though that would involve more contact with harry.

 

so he shakes his head, saying, “couch” into harry’s mouth before beginning to move, walking harry backwards until they’re collapsing on the couch, nick on top of harry and working one leg in between harry’s.

 

“too many fucking _clothes_ ,” harry groans, reaching up to pull nick’s shirt off, a scrabble of hands and nails raking against his back, but at least it’s a step closer to what nick needs, what he’s craving. so he begins unbuttoning harry’s shirt with clumsy fingers that keep missing buttons, making harry laugh slightly and reach down to help until his shirt has been discarded.

 

and, well. harry’s pretty fucking gorgeous with a shirt on, nick will freely admit. but harry _without_ a shirt is almost criminal, with sculpted abs and ivory, verging on slightly tanned skin, and nick would really enjoy doing shots off that stomach, he thinks.

 

harry runs his hands down nick’s body, trailing teasing fingertips down his back until letting his hands come to rest on his arse, cupping it and making nick press down and groan slightly as the friction provided him with the smallest amount of relief. he bent his head down, mouthing against harry’s nipples until they were hard, and pressed a trail of messy kisses and licks and bites down harry’s chest and stomach, harry making a choked noise deep in his throat.

 

nick reaches down to fumble with harry’s button and zipper, but not before mouthing at his hard cock and feeling harry squirm underneath him, hands moving to tangle in nick’s hair before reaching to pull his pants down and off, and then discarding nick’s jeans.

 

somehow, nick’s moved back up, sucking another spot messily into harry’s neck as harry groans, rutting upwards just to feel the friction of nick’s cock against his, even if it is through the fabric of their boxers. and nick can’t stop the noise that escapes him, the slight hiss through his teeth, as he reciprocates, and he’s so fucking _close_ already and he has to fucking do something before he comes in his pants like a teenager.

 

he reaches down into harry’s boxers and grips his cock, making a circle with his hand and rubbing his thumb over the tip as harry thrusts up, moaning as nick kisses him and feels his body thrum with arousal, with the vibration of harry’s groans. pumping his hand slightly, he murmurs, “can you come like this?”

 

harry nods, says, “yeah, yeah, but – but i don’t want to, want you to blow me instead and then want to feel you come inside me, jesus, _fuck_ – “ and breaks off again as nick moves straight down, stripping harry of his boxers and letting his flushed, leaking cock come free. as he eyes it, he says, “not bad, curly,” before wrapping his mouth around harry’s dick, mouthing against it once before pulling off to lick small, teasing presses of his tongue against the head until he can feel harry shaking underneath him.

 

“fuck, please, please, _nick_ ,” harry moans, rutting his hips upwards, and that’s all the encouragement nick needs before he’s taking harry as far in as he can go, his hand drifting towards harry’s balls and gently stroking, making harry thrust up into nick’s mouth before realising what he’s doing. and nick almost gags on it, but he doesn’t pull away, just sucks harder and moves his mouth up against the side of harry’s dick, swirling his tongue as he reaches in to grasp his own cock, lightly stroking to relieve the pressure that had been building. harry’s moans were increasing, his legs trembling underneath nick, and with one final lick at the head of his cock, he was shuddering, helplessly rutting up into nick’s mouth as he came hot and wet, nick swallowing and stroking him through his orgasm as he pulled away.

 

nick crawls back up harry’s body, pressing his mouth to harry’s, who wrinkles his nose slightly before kissing him back, slow and messy.

 

“gross,” he laughs, “you taste like spunk.”

 

“that’s yours, you twat. you’re not the one that had it in your mouth,” nick teases, still aware of his uncomfortably hard dick threatening to escape his boxers. and he has to do something about it, so he murmurs, “harry, i need – need you to touch me.”

 

“god, yeah, of course,” harry replies, reaching into nick’s boxers and pushing them down, pulling out his hard cock. his hand wraps around nick’s cock, and the relief is so strong that he can’t stop the moan that escaps his lips, rutting hard into harry’s hand. his dick was slick, leaking precome, and harry’s hand easily slides along it, pumping up as he presses a thumb to the head of nick’s cock, making him twitch and groan loudly, almost as if he was in pain. it only takes several more strokes before nick was gasping, cock pulsing as it shot all over harry’s hand and stomach, spilling slightly in between them.

 

collapsing, nick kisses harry again, his heart still pounding in his chest and head spinning slightly.

 

he feels alight, nerves all on fire, and skin tender to touch. something about harry makes him feel electric, feel raw.

 

or maybe that’s just the orgasm speaking.

 

“you alright?” harry asks, noticing him lost in thought.

 

nick replies without missing a beat, “you said you wanted me to fuck you. guess we missed that part.”

 

“well, we’ve still got – “ harry checks his watch, “well, it’s two am, so, basically, the rest of the night?”

 

“think i might start by taking a shower. care to join, harry the fit-as-fuck model?”

 

“it’s styles. harry styles. and i’d love to,” harry grins cheekily, green eyes seeming to sparkle even in the dim light.

 

+

 

nick does end up getting to fuck harry, spread out and eager on his bed. and in the morning, when gilly (or gellz as he’s fondly nicknamed her) sees harry, shirtless and lounging against the kitchen counter, she’ll groan and say, “i didn’t realise this house was a bloody diesel casting!”

 

and nick?

 

well, nick will just laugh and kiss harry.


End file.
